


paula's (pen) pals

by doofusface



Category: Mr. Iglesias (TV)
Genre: Chatting & Messaging, F/M, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gen, High School, Light Angst, Love Confessions, Misunderstandings, Pen Pals, Romance, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Sort Of, chaos classmates, the amount of friendship in this...., there's PLOT OKAY
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:35:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24712468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doofusface/pseuds/doofusface
Summary: Welcome to Woodrow Wilson’s Pen Pal Program!Please read the information below and create a username (must not contain any identifying information) on the link provided.
Relationships: Grace Lee & Rakeem Rozier, Lorenzo Webber/Rita Perez, Marisol Fuentes & Mikey Gutierrez, Marisol Fuentes & Mikey Gutierrez & Grace Lee & Walt Dobbs & Lorenzo Webber & Rakeem Rozier, Marisol Fuentes/Mikey Gutierrez, Paula Madison & Gabriel Iglesias, Paula Madison & Gabriel Iglesias & Tony Ochoa & Abigail Spencer & Ray Hayward, The Drip Tray & Gabriel Iglesias
Comments: 20
Kudos: 110





	paula's (pen) pals

**Author's Note:**

> look at this absolute monstrosity you guys
> 
> it's super late so any formatting things i missed will be fixed in the next few days ahaaa

**Problem** **:** Woodrow Wilson students have had an increase in dumbassery related to lack of social skills in the form of relationship-building.

 **Solution** **:** Implementation of a pen pal system, managed by Mr. Ochoa (because he has so much free time from not teaching) and Ms. Spencer (because Mr. Ochoa actually does whatever she tells him to). Maintenance checks by other faculty (TBD) will be done at random intervals so as to make sure the program runs smoothly.

“Can you legally use this memo?” Gabe asks, the slip of paper tempting him to take a photo before it sees the shredder.

“Hell no,” Paula says, snatching it away before Gabe’s hand ever touches his phone. “But you get the gist.”

“This is a voluntary program, correct?” Ray asks.

Paula quirks a brow. “Do you think any of these kids would _voluntarily_ sign up for this?”

“I can make mine voluntarily do it,” Gabe quips.

“Do you understand the word ‘voluntary’?” 

“I teach history,” Gabe grins, cheekily looking at Ray. “Get it?”

“Yes, yes, history repeats itself,” Ray says, rolling his eyes.

“So we’re forcing the kids to volunteer?” Tony says more than asks, a familiar glint in his eye. He smirks at Gabe. “I bet you $50 that I get more of my kids to sign up by the end of the day.”

“I’ll take that bet,” Gabe shrugs. He looks at Paula. “Are there any rules to this thing? For the students.”

“Anonymity,” Paula says, as clear as possible. “Tell your kids they can exchange general info, but no name exchanges, no major defining markers. The goal here is to encourage communication between the…” She clears her throat. “…Well, you know. It’s like _Les Miserables_ in there.”

 _Squint_. “…And you want Tony to be Lafayette?”

“They ignored him, didn’t they?”

(If Ray snickers, only Tony frowns about it.)

“I have a question,” Abby says, raising her hand. “Will they ever be allowed to exchange personal information?”

Paula nods. “End of the semester. Maybe they’ll stop being at each other's' throats by then.”

“And how are pairings determined?” Ray asks, skepticism in his voice. “Majority of the student body isn’t part of the bourgeoisie. I’m sure you’ll run out of inter-class pairs at some point.” 

“We’ll make it random until the honors kids all get sorted, then toss the rest into a bingo drum.”

“Last question,” Tony says, brows furrowed as he looks around the lounge. “Where’s your rottweiler-looking chihuahua?”

Paula pressed her lips down in a thin line. “He’s tending an injury.”

“Would it be related to the new electric scooter parked in your office?” Gabe asks, looking completely innocent.

“… _Dismissed_ ,” she says, pointedly leaving the room.

Tony _tch_ s, and hands Abby a $20.

* * *

“I don’t care who I get, but if I find out it’s Whitney, I’m never trusting you again,” Marisol says after class. She shoves the McDonald’s cap on and points at Gabe. “Seriously. I’ll water down your soda.”

“That doesn’t sound like you not caring who you get,” Gabe treads carefully. “And the whole point is getting to know your peers on a deeper level. Who knows, if you _do_ get Whitney, you could end up best friends.”

 _Stare_.

“…Okay, bad example, she’s pretty soulless,” he says, wincing. “But you know what I mean.”

Marisol’s unamused frown stays put.

 _Sigh_. “…I’ll take care of it.”

* * *

Gabe doesn’t even have to do anything, really, because when he asks Abby how the lists have been going, she tells him the emails have been sent out and that, as far as she could tell, only one kid in his class got matched to an honors student and/or jock, and the bourgeois wasn’t Whitney.

“What, did you see the names?” he asks.

“Oh, no,” Abby says, waving a hand. “But it was matching up the honors and varsity students alphabetically, and it was _well_ -past Whitney’s name.”

Gabe shudders.

“What’s wrong? Isn’t that a good thing?”

He shakes his head, frowning deeply. “I just got a bad feeling that some poor smart-ass got paired up with Grace.”

* * *

(Unsurprisingly, he also manages to get his whole class on the list, versus Tony’s meager seven kids.)

* * *

**Welcome to Woodrow Wilson’s Pen Pal Program!**

Please read the information below and create a username (must not contain any identifying information) on the link provided. 

Program information:

  1. As this is designed to encourage harmonious and/or understanding relationships within the student body, please consider the chatroom a safe space. All information will be wiped at the end of the program, and screenshots are blocked by the program.
  2. All correspondence is confidential—no member of the faculty and/or administration will have access to private chats, but the program **will** be monitored by filters. 
  3. The program does not allow the use of attachments for student safety.
  4. On filters: the program is designed to censor the name of the account holder, including variations. Please do not attempt to circumvent this. Name filters will automatically suspend at the end of November.
  5. Be kind. Any instance of bullying related to this program will not be tolerated.
  6. For any questions, please contact Mr. Ochoa or Ms. Spencer.



“I don’t think they realize we have phones,” Lorenzo says, staring at the email—on his phone—with a scared look. “Like, we can def get around the screenshot thing.”

“I mean, we have to be vague anyway, right?” Marisol says, already making a username. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Uh, I get my personal info sold on the dark web?”

“Right, forgot who I was talking to.” Marisol gives him a bored look. “You think kids in this school know how to do business? Like, not even on the dark web.”

“Grace,” Lorenzo says, snapping his fingers. “Grace can.”

“Grace got one of the honors kids.”

“What? How did she—” _Frown_. “—Did she hack it?”

“Nah, the guy talked like one,” Marisol snickers. “Overuse of the words ‘beach house’.”

_Ding!_

Thank you for creating an account, **purplelightsaber**! 

Click the link below to enter your designated chatroom.

“I hope I just get you so I don’t have to log in, ever,” Lorenzo frowns, looking over her shoulder. “Wow, talk about vague username.”

Marisol shrugs, but there’s a knowing smirk when Lorenzo rabbit-holes into thinking of a username.

Sometimes you just have a stroke of genius.

* * *

_purplelightsaber has entered the chat._

**clubhouseking:** hi!

lol nice name

 **purplelightsaber:** hi! thanks :) yours too

 **clubhouseking:** haha my sister inspired me

 **purplelightsaber:** cool cool

uh how does this work?

 **clubhouseking:** idk lol

 **purplelightsaber:** are we allowed to ask pronouns? 

**clubhouseking:** ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ 

**purplelightsaber:** screw it, it’s gna be hard without them

she/her

 **clubhouseking:** he/him

but...duh

“king”

 **purplelightsaber:** lmao thought so

so, any favorite beaches? maybe even beach houses?

 **clubhouseking:** lolll nope, broke here

u?

 **purplelightsaber:** hella broke

this program kinda failed huh

 **clubhouseking:** we dont have a lot of rich kids tho

n not everyone signed up

 **purplelightsaber:** touché

 **clubhouseking:** fancy

 **purplelightsaber:** too fancy for the king?

 **clubhouseking:** im a broke king

that’s way too fancy 

**purplelightsaber:** crown of burgers or castles?

 **clubhouseking:** of ins n outs :p

Marisol chortles. Out loud. In the library.

Ms. Lozada, the librarian, gives her the biggest of stink eyes.

She clears her throat, head ducking under the large hardback she _was_ going to study as she texts a reply.

**purplelightsaber:** a man of culture

 **clubhouseking:** B) 

haha

wish i could get that printed so my mom could have proof that someone thinks that

Marisol blinks.

**purplelightsaber:** is that a joke?

 **clubhouseking:** ehhhh

safe space?

 **purplelightsaber:** safe space

 **clubhouseking:** fam’s banking more on my sister than me

And she’s ten

 **purplelightsaber:** oof. Im sorry

 **clubhouseking:** :) thanks

 **purplelightsaber:** and i take it back

 **clubhouseking:** ??

 **purplelightsaber:** this program didn’t fail

:)

 **clubhouseking:** :)

* * *

Tony’s the one who snickers when Carlos brings it up.

“Hey, man. If you don’t like the idea, you should tell Paula,” Tony says, ready to watch their collective nemesis get a public talking-to yet again.

“Very funny,” Carlos says, as whiny as he can without actually whining. “But I’m not taking your bait.”

“He’s _learning!_ ” Gabe exclaims in a very Dr. Frankenstein accent. 

(Abby snorts.

Carlos throws her a death glare.

…She snorts _again_.)

 _Huff._ “Are you not bothered that your students spend more time texting under their desks than listening to you?” Carlos says. 

(Tony mentally notes that he sounds like a lawyer commercial for some reason.)

“Not mine,” Gabe shrugs. “Well-behaved, same as Abby’s. And Tony’s don’t even need to be taught, so I don’t see what changed.”

“It’s _chaos_ —”

“They’re texting during lunch hours,” Ray says, bored since the second Carlos stepped into the lounge. “They’re teenagers. What’s so odd about that?”

“They’re texting _more!_ ” Carlos huffs again, and Gabe starts counting down the seconds to a full meltdown.

Ray rolls his eyes, turning back to his newspaper. “I don’t know what to tell you. That was the point.”

“You assume Carlos here cares about the point,” Gabe quips.

“ _Ahhhhh._ ” Ray wags a finger. “Heh. Heheh.”

“…I see there’s no place for order here,” Carlos frowns, heading for the door. 

“Not for a dictator!” Gabe yells as the door swings open. 

Carlos throws one last death glare at them, and the door swings shut.

* * *

Walt’s the one who cracks first. 

“I cannot believe you lasted a whole two weeks,” Marisol squints at him during a game, with their little group tucked into a corner.

“Told ya,” Lorenzo says, shaking his head fondly. “ _Growth._ ”

“At least someone believes in me,” Walt says, hugging his best friend. “Thanks, man.”

Lorenzo pats his shoulder. “I gotchu.”

“You’re messing up my class stat counter,” Grace frowns, hand aimed at her laptop. 

“Ooh, what are my stats?” Mikey says, leaning over her shoulder. His smile drops. “Hey! How come I only have a three for charm?”

(Marisol sucks in her lips, but her cheeks rise in a hidden smile anyway.)

Grace shuts the device. “…There are some questions we don’t ask.”

Marisol kicks at her friend lightly. “Hey, be nice.”

“Am I a three?” Mikey pouts at her, sagging back into the hard, metal bleachers. 

“At least a five,” Marisol says consolingly, rubbing his arm. “For likability.”

_Ohhhhh._

Not the best word choice.

Walt leans in their direction. “‘Likability’?”

Marisol shoves his face away. “Do not read into that.”

“ _Like_. Ability.”

Mikey’s shifting in his seat now, too. And red. He’s turning red.

And Marisol’s stuck in the middle, like a fool.

“W-we were talking about _you_ ,” she manages to say to Walt, very much ignoring the heat rising to her cheeks. “You ruined the experiment!”

“Okay, first of all, my partner didn’t tell me her name, so not really,” Walt says, unfazed. He smirks. “And second—‘likability’?” _Whistle._

Marisol copies Mikey, slumping into the metal. She has one hand on her temples and her other arm across her chest, helping her mission to immediately disappear. “Rakeem’s about to score.”

“KILL ‘EM DEAD, ‘KEEM!” Grace yells, and that’s that.

(Except it’s not, not really—because Mikey’s still beside Marisol, and he’s the one with all the food, so yeah, at some point, yeah—they share the last lonely soda in turns.

Lorenzo absolutely refuses to forget about it, and Walt keeps whistling, like a flippin’ canary.)

* * *

_clubhouseking has entered the chat._

**purplelightsaber:** hey!

 **clubhouseking:** yoyoyo

rocket was sick huh

 **purplelightsaber:** yeah

you were at the game?

 **clubhouseking:** who wasnt?

 **purplelightsaber:** some people

careful, i might find out who you are

 **clubhouseking:** yeah right

there were 300 people there, easy

 **purplelightsaber:** deduction :p

so what’s up?

 **clubhouseking:** nm. u?

Marisol thinks: _This is silly._

Then she remembers two weeks ago, the first time they’d met.

Safe space.

**purplelightsaber:** okay real talk?

because youre a guy

and you said you liked someone last week, so i know youll sort of understand

i think i may...like someone

 **clubhouseking:** ooooooooo

 **purplelightsaber:** a guy ive been friends with for a long time

 **clubhouseking:** OOOOOOOOOO

haha sorry

keep goin

 **purplelightsaber:** haha that’s fine, made me laugh

he’s really nice, and sweet

idk

i dont even know if it would work?

 **clubhouseking:** why not?

youre nice

and sweet

 **purplelightsaber:** im also crazy busy

 **clubhouseking:** yolo?

 **purplelightsaber:** club, cmon

 **clubhouseking:** im serious

if he feels even a tiny bit the same he’d be down

trust me, im a guy

 **purplelightsaber:** no dude, im SUPER busy

like i dont think i could give him the time

and i dont even know if i LIKE him

 **clubhouseking:** i promise i wont be hurt if u dump me when u start dating him

if that gives you the time

:p

 **purplelightsaber:** harhar

 **clubhouseking:** oh

 **purplelightsaber:** ?

 **clubhouseking:** but this reminds me

 **purplelightsaber:** ¿¿??

 **clubhouseking:** idk i might be overthinking it

i overthink a lot

i think she likes me??

back????

 **purplelightsaber:** !!!

 **clubhouseking:** maybe

idk

 **purplelightsaber:** what happened??

 **clubhouseking:** just sort of.. flirted...during the game......... 

**purplelightsaber:** duuuude

 **clubhouseking:** idk tho idk

maybe im reading into it

i do that a lot

im working on it yknow?

 **purplelightsaber:** has she ever done that?

 **clubhouseking:** i think??? not sure

it’s complicated. she’s always been p touchy w me

i got used to it i guess

i mean

it still freaks me out (in a good way), but now i expect it lol

 **purplelightsaber:** make a move!!

 **clubhouseking:** i guarantee that is not a good idea

 **purplelightsaber:** ¿que?

 **clubhouseking:** she is WAY out of my league purp

WAAAAAY out

like a freakin

idk

 **purplelightsaber:** alien? :p

 **clubhouseking:** sooooo much better

like 

the sun

i think shes like the sun

 **purplelightsaber:** so…you cant look at her directly

 **clubhouseking:** no im serious!!

if you told me that everything was like

attracted to her or something

id believe you

 **purplelightsaber:** dang

shakespeare up from the grave

 **clubhouseking:** haha

 **purplelightsaber:** what happened to yolo though?

all talk tsk tsk

 **clubhouseking:** okay, very different

 **purplelightsaber:** how so?

 **clubhouseking:** i am a coward

so

theres that

Oh, he’s done it now. Marisol hasn’t hid under the covers in years, and for laughter, no less.

But here she is.

Giggling, chuckling, covering her mouth because it’s past 11 and her mom might wake up because the walls are thin.

Whoever clubhouseking is, he _is_ her friend.

**purplelightsaber:** LMAO 

thanks for that

almost woke my mom up

 **clubhouseking:** ¡¡¡no bueno!!!

 **purplelightsaber:** less bueno if she ever finds out im talking to a guy past school hours

 **clubhouseking:** sounds fun for group projects

 **purplelightsaber:** oh yup

suuuuper fun

especially when i have to go to someone’s house

 **clubhouseking:** :0

porque why!!

 **purplelightsaber:** hahaha

smartass

 **clubhouseking:** :)

hey

yknow what

 **purplelightsaber:**?

 **clubhouseking:** im really glad we met

and that it’s over text

cuz im a huge loser in person

 **purplelightsaber:** oh???

so i have to find the biggest losers at school

got it

 **clubhouseking:** haha!

no im just

i dont talk well

probably why she doesnt like me

 **purplelightsaber:** the sun queen?

 **clubhouseking:** oooh i like that

yes the sun queen

i put my foot in my mouth like all the time

 **purplelightsaber:** would PAY to see that

 **clubhouseking:** L O L

almost spilled my water all over my computer lmaooo

but really

im just really glad i have a new friend whos pretty cool

 **purplelightsaber:** aww

hey for what it’s worth

im sure whoever you end up with is gonna be really happy

and if ms sun queen doesn’t see how great you are

screw her

 **clubhouseking:** LMAOOOOO

so a coward and a rly aggro nerd

 **purplelightsaber:** coward gamer*

 **clubhouseking:** oh wow

really tryina hurt my pride huh

 **purplelightsaber:** it’s not my fault you brought it up

 **clubhouseking:** safe space my ass

 **purplelightsaber:** HAHAHA

* * *

All they know about what the teachers and admin think is that Principal Madison doesn’t even care if they text in class anymore as long as they don’t fail and they’re using the program’s app, not something else.

Grace didn’t really last long—a month and a half—on the _Ignoring The Messages Popping Up On The Computer_ train, but she was never worse than a B student, so who cares if she passes along what MoProblems from honors thinks of Mr. Iglesias’ jokes? Especially since they’re always pro-Whatever Mr. Iglesias Says?

(Not most people from their class, that’s who.)

(And yeah, the fact that she didn’t hack the system to find out who he is _is_ the biggest of surprises.)

Even Marisol checks her phone once or twice, and it’s Mikey, of all people, who gives a look that’s between a smirk and a laugh whenever she does it.

(He’s been getting more confident lately, and she’s into it—shout-out to whomever his penpal is, seriously. Boy’s still a stammering mess most days, but he has less weird compound word entries and more smiling at her and asking about her day.

Seriously, she’s so screwed.)

She’s saved from having to defend herself with Grace relaying another message.

“I didn’t know Mr. Honors had a sense of humor,” Rakeem says from across the room, and holy Poly—is he _ticked?_

“You have to if you’re in that class,” Mr. Iglesias quips. 

Marisol quirks a brow at him.

“I said what I said.”

“That’s friendship,” Mikey says.

Marisol squints. “Who insinuates you’re boring?”

Mikey blinks. “… _Ohhhh._ ” He mods. “I get it now.”

Rakeem huffs, leg jumping. “Whatever, he’s still one of them.”

Grace scrunches up her face and tilts her head to the side. “You were one of ‘them,’ too.”

It does the opposite of cool him off, but Mr. Iglesias manages to turn that into a talking point about the USSR before someone could throw in a strong defense for their resident hacker, and an accusatory offense for their star player.

Marisol’s just glad class is back in full force before Walt or Lorenzo can register the fact that she was a little incensed that someone would call Mikey something he certainly is not.

* * *

“What was that about?” Gabe asks Rakeem when practice just wraps.

(Coach Dixon is by the rest of the squad—predictably obnoxious and a lot more tipsy than usual—but he’s jovial and dancing to prove it, so Gabe elects to ignore him.)

Kid’s grumpy. He points at the bleachers. “You see that?”

There are a bunch of cheerleaders practicing up front, some admirers for both them and the football team spread out like a badly-planned pizza, and…

Well, Rita’s there, but you don’t ask questions about her, so.

“Your many fans?” Gabe says, raising a brow. “Yeah, and I’m starting to think you’re gonna need some restraining orders.”

“Grace hasn’t been to practice in a month,” Rakeem says, grumbling and crossing his arms. “A month, Mr. I.”

“Oh.” A beat. “ _Oh_.” Gabe pulls a _Yikes_ face. “So—”

“Not like that.”

“Oh?”

“She does my stats, helps me with footage and stuff,” Rakeem says, loosening his arms. There’s respect in how he says it, maybe more than when he’s talking to Gabe or Coach Dixon. “Hell, she got those recruiters to come in before.” Rakeem shrugs, but his face softens. “Not that it’s all about me, don’t get me wrong. I talk to her about her family. She talks to me about mine. We defend each other, we like the same stuff, mostly, and it’s easy to hang with her.” _Sigh_ , as heavy as the world on Atlas. “…She’s like my best friend, y’know?”

“Careful,” Gabe jokes, a glint in his eye as he remembers the boy’s first week in class. “Or you’re gonna have to start roasting yourself for being soft.”

Rakeem smiles. “Eh, y’know what? Mikey’s on it. Soft is _in_.”

* * *

_clubhouseking has entered the chat._

_purplelightsaber has entered the chat._

**clubhouseking:** samesies

 **purplelightsaber:** lmaoo

I’m surprised you werent on earlier

 **clubhouseking:** had homework

gotta keep them grades up

or like, as up as i can get em lol

 **purplelightsaber:** wish we could help w homework

 **clubhouseking:** wouldnt that be a clue for our secret identities tho

 **purplelightsaber:** true

 **clubhouseking:** do you wanna know who i am so bad? :p

only half the sem to go

 **purplelightsaber:** boooo

ill figure it out

 **clubhouseking:** bet???

 **purplelightsaber:** BET

 **clubhouseking:** what u puttin???

 **purplelightsaber:** hmm

hw for a week

 **clubhouseking:** OOOOOO

id say same but i might wreck ur gpa lol

uhhh

ill carry all your stuff for two weeks

 **purplelightsaber:** oh snap

get ready to carry every sat prep book i own sucka

 **clubhouseking:** u wish!!

haha

ummmm so q

 **purplelightsaber:** ?

 **clubhouseking:** i took ur advice and just chilled out more right

 **purplelightsaber:** right

 **clubhouseking:** been cool

i think

but now she’s been like. texting on the app a lot in class

:/

 **purplelightsaber:** oh

i mean, has she for sure been texting??

and do you have any reason to think she likes her pen pal that way

 **clubhouseking:** she gets all excited and checks her phone a lot

im PRETTY SURE shes texting (like 95%), but im closer to the front so im usually looking at our teacher?

sometimes i catch her looking at her phone and it’s like aw ok

cuz she gets shy?? shes NEVER shy

and then hides it

and i swear shes blushing a bit or smth

 **purplelightsaber:** oooooof

um

well let’s see

don’t assume anything

but maybe actually try to talk to her more directly?

just dont pass out :p

 **clubhouseking:** hard mode :(

not poggers :(

 **purplelightsaber:** sorry

no poggers today

<3

 **clubhouseking:** <3

ty

u da best

 **purplelightsaber:** haha np

go get her!!!

(with consent!!)

 **clubhouseking:** yee

youre so much like her haha it’s great

i think youd be friends

 **purplelightsaber:** oh youd be bffs with my guy 100%

1 0 0 %

i think i could just lock you in a room with w twitch stream on and you wouldnt even notice im gone

 **clubhouseking:** you liked the streams i sent you dont lie

 **purplelightsaber:** informative

 **clubhouseking:** DONT LIE LMAOOOOO

 **purplelightsaber:** a little entertaining

 **clubhouseking:** one day purp

one dayyyy

 **purplelightsaber:** :)

nope

:)

* * *

Paula straightens, the proverbial light bulb going off so bright Abby swears it actually exists. “We should do a Secret Santa!”

“Oh, that’s a great idea!” Abby says, immediately grinning. “I’ll get a hat—”

“She’s talking about the program,” Gabe chuckles, sipping his water. “Y’know the only thing she’s been talking about for the last two months?”

“Closer to three,” Ray says, not bothering to hide his annoyance.

“Sorry,” Paula says, waving a hand. “It just gets me so fired up. And it would be good for the kids!”

“The kids with no money?” Gabe asks, batting his eyes innocently. “Those kids?”

“Psh. We’ll make it a physical letter instead of a chatroom. Something they can actually hold on to.”

“Wow, that’s actually thoughtful, Paula,” Tony says, genuinely surprised.

It earns him an unamused stare, but hey, better than getting fired, right?

* * *

_purplelightsaber has entered the chat._

**purplelightsaber:** you are legit never on during school hours huh

a responsible gamer???? boi

anyway jsyk gna be super busy later so dont try to report me missing

* * *

“Did you see the email?” Walt says as the group (plus Rita) walk out of the school that afternoon. “Like, how is that supposed to work? The big reveal thing is a week after.”

“I dunno, but I’m definitely bringing my binoculars,” Lorenzo says. “No way I’ma let them get away.”

“Grace has more self-restraint than you,” Marisol deadpans.

“Grace texts in class!”

“We _all_ text in class,” Mikey says, a little defensive.

“Mikey, you don’t text in class,” Rakeem says, squinting. “What are you on about, man?”

“…That’s not the point!”

“Uh-huh,” Lorenzo says, looking between him and Marisol. “Yeah, we know what the point is.”

“Rita, call off your boy, huh?” Marisol says exasperatedly.

Rita does not, in fact, call off her boy. “ _Nah_ , I like it when he gets all _feisty_.”

“ _Barf_ ,” Grace says, grimacing.

Wrong reaction. “What’d you say?”

“Okay, sweetie, Grace is cool, remember?” Lorenzo says, stepping between his girlfriend and oldest friend. “We don’t hurt Grace. She yelled at Hernandez.”

“Ah, yeah, that’s right,” Rita says, clicking her tongue. “Okay, but only—” she says, pointing at Grace, “—because Enzo says you’re cool.”

“Thanks?”

“Don’t mention it.” Pause. “Seriously, _don’t_ , I have a rep.”

Grace squints, stepping back. “…Yeah, okay, sure.”

“If we’re done with here, I would like to spend my scheduled day off actually doing something fun,” Marisol says, done about four exchanges ago. She checks the time on her phone. “Four hours of freedom before I gotta head home. Sound off?”

“Recruiter meeting,” Rakeem says, adjusting his backpack with a shrug. “But I’ll catch up after. Should be quick.”

“I gotta negotiate,” Grace says, thumb jutted out to him. “I’m still down for after.”

“We’re down for like an hour,” Lorenzo says, a hand passing between him and his girlfriend. “But then Rita has to go.”

Rita shrugs. “Parole.”

“Yup, we all knew,” Marisol says, nodding once. 

Walt checks his wallet. “I’m down, but I need—”

“Nuh-uh.”

“…Then I’m down for free activities.”

“Malls are cold.”

He snaps his fingers. “My man!”

Marisol rolls her eyes. One more to hear from, and her stomach’s all in knots as she says, “Mikey?”

“Oh,” he says, fidgeting. 

Something’s…wrong.

He can’t meet her eye. “I want to—and I know what I said—b-but I have a thing to finish.”

She’s getting turned down for homework?

Since when?

Marisol frowns, concern etched across her face. “You’ve been on top of your work since last year, what are you talking about?”

“ _Heh_ ,” Grace says, cackling a bit.

“What?”

“He’s behind on the midterm due tomorrow.”

“Aw, _man_ ,” Mikey whines. He looks like a kicked puppy, but at least this time he’s looking her in the eye. “I’ve just been talking to my pen pal a lot. And she’s helping me with, uh…some things…and then I get d-distracted, and I totally blew off some work last month—not everything, I promise, but it kinda piled up and I forgot about one paper, so…”

“Oh.”

(He gives a sad smile, and she hates how her stomach is tangled and mangled.)

“It’s cool,” Marisol says, waving any strong emotions off along with his guilt. She _pff_ s. “It’s not like I saved up an off-day for today, or anything.”

(She did.)

(She totally did.)

(Day before midterms’ due date was the day they all made a deal to go chill, but…)

“I’m really sorry,” Mikey says, almost pleading. 

Something clicks. 

He grins. 

“I know! I can finish it early and catch up!”

“Better hurry up, man,” Walt says, checking his watch. “Hayward’s paper took me ten hours.”

“Only?” Rakeem squints.

“Uh-huh. New record, baby!”

“I’m half done,” Mikey says, nearer to Marisol while the rest of them cheer Walt on. “I could totally do it.”

Marisol hesitates. “You don’t have to come—”

“No way,” he beams, so wide it’s like the sun shining on her. 

She can’t say no to that. “ _Ah_ —if you’re sure—”

“Yes!” he says, already booking it. “Just text me where you guys are at, I’ll be there!”

“ _Dude_ ,” Rakeem says, finally noticing what’s up. “He’s _psycho_ if he thinks he can finish that thing with _all_ the requirements before midnight.”

Marisol’s quiet.

And she stays that way most of the afternoon.

* * *

_clubhouseking has entered the chat._

**clubhouseking:** purp???

u here???? 

lmao ok first of all i cant mess up in class or she’ll think im irresponsible again

i cant believe u were ON during CLASS

how the turn tables

uhhh anyway if u end up getting on ping me i could use some help :( (ok if not tho i know ur busy)

* * *

“It wasn’t, like, unreasonable, right?” Marisol asks Lorenzo, after the obtaining—and decimating—of ice cream and before Walt can attempt to force out a snack from the vending machine.

Lorenzo frowns. “What, telling Rakeem not to speed to get here?” 

(Rita pushes Walt to the side.)

“No, just—asking everyone to get stuff done by today.”

(One punch—to the machine—later, _THUNK._ )

“I mean, it was Mikey’s idea,” Lorenzo shrugs. He holds his index finger up. “Snickers for me, Ri.”

(She nods, and another punch later, a few more pittering THUNKS echo from the machine.)

“Yeah,” Marisol says, hands stuck in her back pockets as she watches her friends go crazy on Probably Expired sweets. “Sucks.”

“He’ll come.”

 _Sigh._ “Whatever.”

Lorenzo bumps her shoulder. “Dude. He set this up for you. He’ll come.”

“I don’t know why I thought…” She shakes her head.

“Marisol, he’s liked you since middle school,” Lorenzo says, rolling his eyes as he grabs the chocolate bar from Rita. “Thanks.” He turns to Marisol. “The man’s _committed._ ”

“He’s talking to someone else a lot.”

He pulls her to the side, away from Rita and Walt’s candy-freeing spree. Lorenzo ducks his head down, a hand on her shoulder. “We all are. That’s not fair.”

“He’s changing,” she sighs heavily, exhausted all of a sudden. “Last year, he said we should all do this. And we all promised to. Then the pen pal thing starts this year, and he barely texts me now, and he’s more confident, and more studious, and he’s ditching plans _he_ made.” She shuts her eyes tightly, frustrated by her thoughts. “And it’s not like it’s a _bad_ thing that he’s doing better at school, or he’s more comfortable in his own skin, right? But I guess—” _Curse._ “—I guess I feel like he did all that…because of _her_. And I’m not…” _Huff._ “This is so stupid.”

“Not what?”

“I’m not the one he’s doing it for,” she snaps. A wince and a mumbled apology and she looks at her friend again, ashamed and afraid. “I know it sounds selfish. I want him to be better. I know, logically, it shouldn’t matter who helps make him better, but I still—”

“—wish it was you?” Lorenzo says, a lopsided, sad smile on his lips. “Mari, you’re jealous.” He shrugs, pulling her into a one-armed hug. “That’s normal.”

“Yeah, still sucks, though,” she says, hugging herself. “For the record, I’m still proud of him. Of all of us.”

“I know. I get you. We all get you.”

 _Curse_. “I miss not having feelings.”

 _That_ makes him ugly laugh. “Uh, when was that a thing? You mother hen like all of us.”

She glares at him.

“You didn’t say romantic only!”

“You suck,” she says, a faint smile as she shoves him away. She looks at the direction of the vending machine. “Ey, Rita! Did you get me Kit Kats?”

Rita pauses from opening a pack of chips. She raises a brow, smirking. “You have to ask?”

* * *

_purplelightsaber has entered the chat._

**purplelightsaber:** excuses

also sorry i was out w friends

do you still need help?

 **clubhouseking:** nope all good! 

ill bbl!!!

 **purplelightsaber:** lol ok!

_clubhouseking has left the chat._

* * *

Walt’s giving Marisol the face she hates the most, because it’s usually _her_ doing it—judging him for something stupid—and not the other way around.

“It’s okay,” she says, trying to convince her friends. She shoos them. “Seriously.”

“We’re not leaving you here alone,” Walt says, exasperated.

“Yeah, c’mon, Rakeem and I can drop you off at home,” Grace says, a flash of concern on her face. “It’s getting late.”

“I’ll let you pick the radio station,” Rakeem bribes.

Ooh.

Tempting.

But.

“No, really,” Marisol repeats, infinitely thankful that Lorenzo and Rita left hours ago. 

(Imagine fending off the entire crew?

Outside of school rules?

Impossible.)

Grace sighs, but it’s a white flag. She’d always been pretty good at knowing when to stop pushing her. “If he doesn’t show up in twenty minutes, call us,” she says sternly.

Marisol raises her hand as if pledging. “Promise.”

“I’m not good with this,” Walt says.

“Too frickin’ bad.”

Rakeem shakes his head. “Don’t hurt him too bad, huh?”

“And don’t die,” Walt says, pointing a finger at her before joining the Football Bros in walking to the car. “Seriously. What the hell will I tell Mr. Iglesias?”

Marisol rolls her eyes, but it’s fond. “I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

“Twenty minutes!” Grace yells from the edge of the boardwalk. “Or I bust your ass tomorrow!”

“You wish!” Marisol yells back, laughing.

She looks down at her phone, the message from Mikey from almost an hour ago still the only thing there.

_leaving house in a min!!_

* * *

**purplelightsaber:** so i know youre out

but when you get back i could use some venting :(

* * *

Mikey’s pretty sure his mom’s going to murder him ala chancla for leaving the house without his phone after sundown.

He’s also pretty sure the chance that Marisol still being where they’d agreed to meet—in front of DeBlasio’s—is so slim he might as well be trying to get to Canada and it would be more viable.

_Ughhhh._

Why’d today have to be the day there was no one home to give him a ride?

* * *

Katie waves through the window, and Marisol wonders if periodically checking on a lonely almost-seventeen-year-old moping on the outside bench of the restaurant she works at is what their teacher’s bartender thought would happen in her life after befriending Woodrow Wilson’s faculty x amount of years ago.

Probably not.

It’s late, her mom’s starting to wonder where she is, and yeah, she thinks _this is it._

This is how it feels to wait too long.

To miss a shot.

* * *

 **purplelightsaber:** ughhhh

i messed up

* * *

Mikey’s feet are like _lead_ when he hits the wood flooring, but he can guarantee cardio is out the window for the next month. It’s the pace of a kid dying to breathe but needing to keep moving, 

There’s no breeze tonight. 

There’s no Marisol sitting in front of DeBlasio’s either.

* * *

Marisol promises herself that any crying done tonight will be done in the confines of her own room, and not in a restaurant bathroom where an elderly lady is having a loud, unfortunate time in one of the stalls.

Something in her gut feels both sick and like a never-ending tug to head outside, so she finishes up drying her hands and steps back out to the little hallway with Katie waiting at the end.

“Don’t tell me you threw up,” she says, already calculating the time it’ll take to clean.

“Fellow food service employee’s honor,” Marisol says, looking about ready to knock out. “Sorry for the trouble. And thank you for—”

“I’ll tell Gabe you were A+,” Katie says, smiling knowingly. “Or better yet, I won’t tell him at all. Our little secret.”

“You should know there’s a bombing in there.”

“Eh,” she says, shrugging. “Madeline does that at least once a week. Your friends are here?”

Marisol checks her phone.

7:35 P.M.

Zero messages from Mikey.

Two from Grace.

“Yeah,” she says, smiling. It doesn’t reach her eyes. “Thanks again.”

“I’d say I’m cool with the little Gabes crashing anytime, but that would probably get me fired, so.” Katie walks her to the door. “Get home safe, huh?”

Marisol salutes. “Aye-aye.”

* * *

_clubhouseking has entered the chat._

**clubhouseking:** life SUCKS

 **purplelightsaber:** what happened??

 **clubhouseking** : was gna have a whole like

romantic gesture moment

and it def did not happen

 **purplelightsaber:** aw club :(

 **clubhouseking:** whoa wait what happened w u???

 **purplelightsaber:** you were right

i shouldve said something earlier

 **clubhouseking:** :(( did he move on??

 **purplelightsaber:** yeah

he did something he’s NEVER done before

(not mean or anything like that)

ugh

 **clubhouseking:** press f

 **purplelightsaber:** f

 **clubhouseking:** f

 **purplelightsaber:** what happened w your thing?

 **clubhouseking:** lets just say i really need to save for my own ride

and also i think she hates me

and also my mom is gna kill me cuz i left my phone at home

 **purplelightsaber:** f

 **clubhouseking:** f

no offense but

really glad i dont have to suffer alone rn

 **purplelightsaber:** misery loves company ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

 **clubhouseking:** *tiny sad violin music*

 **purplelightsaber:** lmao

1.5 yrs to go at least right

then we never have to think about this again

 **clubhouseking:** is it bad

that i dont want to forget

 **purplelightsaber:** ouch 

that hit

 **clubhouseking:** :(

 **purplelightsaber:** wanna look for cat vids?

 **clubhouseking:** !!!

let’s freakin gooooo

* * *

“Dude, why’d you say you were going if you weren’t?” Walt asks, instead of working on the project assigned to them in class.

“I went,” Mikey says simply—moping still, but at least _he’s_ looking at the worksheet. “Do we really have to touch this?”

“Are you vegan?”

“No?”

Walt gestures to the frog. “Then Frankie’s gon’ get cut.” Pause. “She said she didn’t see you.”

“I dunno, maybe she left before I got there,” Mikey shrugs. He really doesn’t want to look at the frog. “I went to DeBlasio’s, but the bench was empty, so I tried walking down. Didn’t see her anywhere.”

“Your luck is six feet under,” Walt says, shaking his head. He hands Mikey the scalpel. “And this is for you.”

“Are you vegan?”

“Starting right now and ending after this, yeah.”

“Screw you, man.”

* * *

 **clubhouseking:** ooooo did you hear

 **purplelightsaber:** dude......it was over the pa system 

we all heard

 **clubhouseking:** hey listen purp i am HURT ok

i have INNER TURMOIL

cut me some SLACK

 **purplelightsaber:** thats not an excuse club, im also sad LOL

 **clubhouseking:** LET ME HAVE THIS :(

 **purplelightsaber:** ive never heard of depression deafness...

 **clubhouseking:** smh

u think u know someone...

 **purplelightsaber:** hahaha

<3

but yes, im excited for the letter exchange!

glad they moved it to the end of the program instead

excited to meet you!

 **clubhouseking:** :D

finally something going right

 **purplelightsaber:** we needed a win after the last few weeks lol

has she talked to you?

 **clubhouseking:** yeah

it’s weird, we still talk?

but not abt what happened

it’s like shes still ok w being friends but idk like

more closed off

cant blame her

i really messed up

 **purplelightsaber:** oof

at least you keep a friend, sort of?

clubhouseking: hows my gamer hermano??

 **purplelightsaber:** he’s…

i miss him

it’s like he’s scared to talk to me

or scared that i talk to him

so it’s kinda awkward, but at least he’s still there?

yeah

it sucks.

 **clubhouseking:** :c

almost break tho

 **purplelightsaber:** almost letter exchange time!!

:)

i dont usually do it but ill prob give you a hug, if that’s okay

 **clubhouseking:** uhhhh yeah??

i need like a gazillion hugs

and u need a gazillion hugs

 **purplelightsaber:** haha

sad but true

 **clubhouseking:** #dontcomoestasmebro

 **purplelightsaber:** LMAO

yes 100%

oh okay wait before i forget

meeting at lunch at the back stairwell, right?

 **clubhouseking:** yup!!!

ill have a crown lol

 **purplelightsaber:** pompous

 **clubhouseking:** my sisters idea!!

u dont veto a ten year old

 **purplelightsaber:** oooh true, true

im not showing up in a jedi robe

before you get any ideas

 **clubhouseking:** wow

booooooo

 **purplelightsaber:** hahaha

ugh i just remembered

im gonna need the hugs real bad that day lol

im gna have class w him that afternoon

 **clubhouseking:** many hugs

as many as u want

(n as many as ur mom allows cuz i dont wanna die lmao)

 **purplelightsaber:** smart

move

bro

 **clubhouseking:** o_o

 **purplelightsaber:** x_x

 **clubhouseking:** ;n;

 **purplelightsaber:** ;D

 **clubhouseking:** :)

* * *

Gabe decides to ask Abby about it—because Tony’s going to rub it in, and because Abby won’t ask any questions.

He waits for her to down her first cup of coffee, double-checks that Tony’s still at his meeting with Paula, and dives straight in.

“Hey, Abby? You wouldn’t happen to know who some of my other kids got, right?” he asks, flashing his dimples. “Like, for the program?”

“Oh, of course,” she says, waving a hand and laughing. “I memorized them just in case the program crashed and we had to manually assign the kids.”

“Huh.”

Abby smiles. “What do you need?”

“Just wondering,” Gabe says, pursing his lips in thought. “Something weird happened in class today.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” he says nonchalantly, leaning back in his chair and throwing in a casual shrug. “Seemed like a few kids were texting each other.”

“Gabe,” Abby says, snorting, “all the kids have been texting in class lately. Remember when Carlos was about to start a revolution over it?”

“Yeah, yeah—but that’s not what I meant.”

“So what was it? Were they not on the program?”

“They were definitely on the program,” Gabe says, slowing down. “It’s just…like…they were texting…each other. Like the person beside them, not someone in another class.”

Abby gives him a look that says I’m Too Polite To Call You Crazy.

He holds a hand up. “I know what it sounds like.”

“It sounds like you want something to be there when it isn’t, Gaber.”

“It was just, ehm…okay, so Person A would look down, text, then listen to the lecture again, right?” he says, trying to illustrate. “And Person B, beside her, would then proceed to do the same thing. And they were never texting at the same time.”

“Wouldn’t they notice, then?”

“Person A and Person B…aren’t exactly talking right now,” Gabe says, grimacing slightly. “Like, they used to, but now they’re _ehhh_.”

Abby raises a brow at him. “And you think they got each other for the program?”

“I’m almost 100% sure.”

“You know I’m supposed to keep their anonymity.”

“I also know you have a soft spot for a good ol’ teen rom-com.”

“… _Ack_ , you’re right,” Abby tsks. She sighs in defeat. “Mikey and Marisol got paired up.”

“…Wasn’t subtle, huh?”

“ _Oh_ , sweetie— _no_.” She pats his shoulder. “Not at all.”

* * *

See, the problem with knowing about the pairing is that it doesn’t really matter at this point, because it’s Exchange Day the next day, and Gabe completely forgets this when he plans to talk to them about it before their class the next day’s afternoon.

So.

* * *

 **clubhouseking:** aight out of class! heading to the stairssss

 **purplelightsaber:** be there in a bit! asking teach something

 **clubhouseking:** kk!

* * *

“Hey, Grace?” Gabe says to his passing student, something swirling in his gut that’s ten times worse than indigestion. 

Grace pauses mid-stride, following him to the side of the hallway. “What’s up, Mr. Iglesias?” 

“Uh,” Gabe says, looking over the crowd, “do you know when Mikey or Marisol are meeting with their pen pals?”

She thinks for a moment. “Lunch, like Rakeem—so now-ish?”

“ _Uhhhh_ ,” he says, the swirling very much worse, “do you maybe know where?”

“Oh, no idea,” Grace says with a chuckle. “But I know most people are heading for the bleachers.”

* * *

 **clubhouseking** : there are ton of ppl here lol

 **purplelightsaber:** can guarantee it’s less than the bleachers crowd tho

 **clubhouseking:** oh ya it was baaaad there

i think most of my friends are meeting there too

 **purplelightsaber:** same here

then again, like 80% of the people who signed up are there, so…

okay almost there

crown up??

 **clubhouseking:** been up!

:D

* * *

Tony gives him the most bored stare in his entire repertoire. “Why do we care if they’re pen pals, again?”

Gabe keeps scanning the already-big-but-getting-bigger crowd at the bleachers. “They’re teenagers, man! They’re either gonna be weird about it, yell at each other, or engage in extreme PDA,” he hisses.

“Marisol would never do that last one.”

“Dude, that is not helping.”

“I’m just saying, maybe you’re overreacting.”

* * *

Marisol spots the crown—barely, its wearer’s obscured by three football players and one basketball starter, but she does know which way to go.

This is a good day.

* * *

“They’re not here,” Gabe says, frowning deeply.

Tony quirks a brow. “How do you know? There are kids still coming out the door.”

“Nah, just doesn’t feel right,” Gabe says, pensive. “But where else?”

* * *

“Did you steal that thing from the theatre department?” Marisol quips, patting her pen pal on the shoulder before weaving by to face him. “It looks gr—”

“ _Oh_ ,” Mikey—yes, that Mikey, _her_ Mikey, the one and _only Mikey_ in her _entire life_ —says, wide-eyed.

Marisol gulps, eyes big as saucers. “…Er.”

“P-purp?” Mikey squeaks.

Oh.

Oh, _no_.

_Ohnonononono—_

“Club,” Marisol says, voice cracking in surprise. “Clubhouseking.”

_Nod._

She looks up at the little ears drawn into his crown. “…Mickey Mouse Clubhouse.”

_Nod._

“Mickey. Mikey.”

_Nod._

“Mikey Gutierrez,” she says in disbelief. She shakes her head. “Mnemonic.”

Another nod, dumber than the rest. “Just like in class.”

“Right.”

“Y-you—”

She shoves her hands in her back pockets, awkwardly swinging her leg forward and back. “Jedi, Samuel L. Jackson, MF.”

“Marisol Fuentes.”

“Yup,” she says, popping the P. 

“Cool,” he says, uncool.

Their eyes do not once stop being the epitome of shocked and embarrassed all at once.

It would be dead silent if there weren’t about fifteen other kids in their immediate vicinity, all extremely excited to meet their new friends for the first time in person, or exclaiming surprise at who they’d gotten.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Si—

“Okay, well, um, thiswasfun,butI’mgonnagonowhomeworkstuff _andjusteverything_ ,” Marisol says quickly, almost knocking two kids over as she moves back through the crowd.

“Noyeahnoyupyeahno _same_ bye _yup_ l-leavingnow,” Mikey says, doing the same to more people behind him.

Two things to note:

  1. The letters in their possession are both immediately shredded and thrown in the nearest garbage bin.
  2. Gabe catches sight of them just as they leave, as hurriedly as possible, in two opposite directions.



Gabe turns to Tony. “See?!”

“ _Ha-ha_ ,” Tony grins. He nods at the direction of the stairwell. “You gotta deal with that during last period.”

* * *

_purplelightsaber has entered the chat._

_clubhouseking has entered the chat._

_purplelightsaber has left the chat._

_clubhouseking has left the chat._

_purplelightsaber has entered the chat._

_purplelightsaber is writing…_

_clubhouseking has entered the chat._

_purplelightsaber is writing…_

_clubhouseking is writing…_

_purplelightsaber has left the chat._

_clubhouseking has left the chat._

* * *

“So how did everybody’s meet go today?” Gabe says, the wide swing of his arms as he smacks his hands together doing nothing to alleviate the dense, dense cloud of awkward.

Mikey’s staring straight ahead—like straight ahead, past Walt, into the wall and out the other side, frozen almost, except for his hands clasped together so tightly on his desk that he’s cutting off circulation.

Marisol has her head bowed a little, her left hand up to hide her face. She’s chewing the inside of her cheek, determined to look at the floor and/or to her right until the bell rings and she’s free to run out the door and out of school.

“I figured it was Rita,” Rakeem says, trying to ignore the elephant in the room. “She was either really mad about her parole officer, or _really_ gushy about her boyfriend.”

Lorenzo shrugs appreciatively. “Heh. What can I say?”

“ _Anything_ ,” Grace groans from the other end of the room, chin teetering on her raised fist. “Literally anything. Just keep talking so it doesn’t get to you-know-whos.”

“Who?” Walt asks, frowning in genuine confusion.

Lorenzo pats his shoulder. “Don’t ask, man.”

“But I don’t—”

“Nope, no questions,” Gabe says, shaking his head furiously. “None. Zero. Nada. In fact, no talking! Grace, can you pull up _La Bamba_ ? We’ll just watch _La Bamba_ today.”

* * *

If both kids run out at the same time after the film and manage to get stuck in the doorway together for a solid two minutes, only Walt asks, “What’s up with them?”

* * *

_clubhouseking has entered the chat._

**clubhouseking:** ok i thought abt it on the way home

this

everything

and idk why im here but it just feels…like the right thing to do?

i could text you but we’re both ignoring each other

i dont even know if youll see this

um

theyre closing the system next week

i just

_clubhouseking is writing…_

_clubhouseking is writing…_

_clubhouseking is writing…_

**clubhouseking:** marisol

if you see this

check your locker tmrw

_clubhouseking has left the chat._

* * *

“Okay, logically, like, we should talk, right?” Marisol says, pacing up and down the front of the bleachers after dismissal.

(It’s Thursday, her regular day off, and she should be enjoying an afternoon knocked out in her room from exhaustion or out with her friends, but of course life decides she should be developing an ulcer instead.)

“You’re asking the wrong person,” Grace says.

“Grace, not helping.”

“If you wanted help, you should’ve asked Mr. Iglesias.”

_Glare._

“It’s true and you know it,” Grace says, sticking her tongue out.

Hmph.

_Petty._

“Mr. Iglesias is on a date and I don’t really want Walt’s mom to know my business,” Marisol says, plopping down onto the grass. “This is messed up.”

“ _Eh_ , is it, though?” Grace asks, scrunching up her face. “I mean, the girl he was vibing with this whole time was you. So, like, you were jealous…” _Squint_. “Wow, you were jealous of yourself? Dude.”

“I get it,” Marisol deadpans, head in her hands, “I’m an idiot.”

* * *

Marisol doesn’t know what to expect, but a neat little envelope with a crudely drawn crown and lightsaber (colored in) in front falling out of her locker bright and early on Friday morning was not it.

It hits her like a truck, but it makes her smile something wonderful.

She’s got study hall first period, so no biggie, and she knows the best nook unknown to most at the library where she can read in peace.

The folded paper is so heavy in her hands as she walks, and all the way until she finds her hiding place.

But, _oof_ , the words?

The words shoot adrenaline.

* * *

Mikey forgets how to concentrate in class—it’s English, and Hayward’s great, but there are more important things.

Like that stupid thing he wrote last night, fever pitch and the most like himself he’s ever felt.

* * *

_Dear Marisol,_

_Please forgive me. I REALLY thought I could do it. I got there at 7:32—I had to ask one of the servers because I left my phone. Just a few minutes late, I think, because Rakeem said they picked you up around that time. I mean, you knew that, ‘cause I told you…uh, Purp…about it. And we talked until I passed out at like 2._

* * *

Like, is his relationship with Marisol—friends or not—fully screwed? 

Is she never gonna talk to him again? 

Is she gonna think he’s a crazy obsessed freak for how he talked about her being the best and also the most stubborn human being he’s ever met?

* * *

_So…I don’t really know what to say._

_I just miss you. I miss talking to you, like in the program. And I miss making you laugh. Like in class when I say something really dumb._

_I really really really miss your laugh._

* * *

What if she _does?!_

_Oh, man._

What if the letter made it _worse?_

* * *

_You know, my original letter was just me thanking you for helping me push myself._

_And you really deserve it. I think I’d still be failing oral reports if you didn’t help me._

_So thank you for helping me get better at talking, and doing homework, and stuff like that. You make me better._

* * *

Hayward’s talking about a poem and all Mikey wants to do is run outside and find his letter so he can burn it before Marisol can get it.

* * *

_I don’t know where I’m going with this._

_But you know, you told me to speak up about...things. So, Marisol Fuentes:_

_Te quiero y te amo._

_You know that, I think? I hope so. I really really really hope you forgive me. And I’m good with just friends. Seriously._

_I just miss you._

_You’re my favorite person._

_And I’m really, really sorry._

_Mikey_

* * *

He starts standing, but the door opens before he can say anything.

“Mr. Hayward?” Marisol says from the door, peeking in. “Can I, uh, borrow Mikey for a sec?”

“Teach him poetry while you got him,” Mr. Hayward says, waving them off. “Haikus, preferably.”

“Will you put it in my recommendation letter?”

“Of course.”

“You got it,” she grins. 

She motions Mikey over.

He’s out in seconds.

* * *

“Okay, I only had like, a minute before I ran out of the library,” Marisol says, a folded sheet of notebook paper in her hands. “And I only had this, but, um.” She hands him the note. “This is for you.”

Mikey’s beyond confused. “Wait, did you get my letter?”

Nod.

“And you’re not mad?”

“Mikey, if you don’t read that in the next ten seconds, I can be,” Marisol says quickly, frowning.

 _Gulp_ , as he opens it.

_Dear Mikey,_

_You’re forgiven if I’m forgiven._

_I miss you, too._

_Te quiero y te amo._

_Marisol_

Mikey blinks. 

Smiles.

Gapes at her until his cheeks hurt. 

“Um?”

“I left after you got there,” she says, chewing the inside of her cheek. “I was in the restroom at the restaurant right before I left, that’s probably how you missed me.”

“But you said you messed up,” Mikey frowns, the wheels in his head trying to turn. “In the chat, you said—”

“I thought, um,” Marisol says, clearing her throat. “I thought you liked someone else, and I thought I waited too long to do something. And I know why it bothered me now.” She smiles. “I didn’t just... _like_...you. That’s why it hurt so bad.” Pause. “And Mikey?”

“Yeah?”

“That stuff you said,” she says, trying really hard not to smile too big. “I mean, same. You know? You made me better. You _make_ me better. And you’re funny, and you care about people, and you really need to talk to your mom about the ‘sleeping over somewhere else’ thing.”

He grins, wider than ever, and spreads his arms out.

“What?” Marisol laughs.

“I’m claiming my pen pal hug,” he says, hands beckoning her to him. “Also, you still lost the bet.”

She rolls her eyes, says, “You’re such a dork,” and manages to hug him long enough for Mr. Hayward to have to send another student out to look for Mikey.

* * *

“I did that,” Paula says proudly, watching the sea of students walk around each other with a newfound sense of harmony.

“Shouldn’t credit go to the kids for actually opening up?” Gabe asks.

“Let me enjoy this, Gabe.”

“I’m just saying—”

“One more word and I’m requiring you to wear pants.”

Gabe mimes a zipping motion across his lips.

“You know, Grace and Malcolm really bridged the gap with the honors kids,” Tony says, nodding proudly. “I heard them talking about going out with some of the other kids in class.”

“They’re going to paintball,” Gabe says.

“Oh. Nevermind, then.”

Paula frowns. “Am I going to have parents calling me to complain in the next few weeks?”

Gabe cackles. “Merry Christmas!”

* * *

_DING!_

**mikey mouse <3**

[mikey mouse <3 sent a picture.]

_what’s this?_

Marisol laughs, the bright light of her phone stinging a bit in the dark of the night. Typical of him to check his mail at some insane hour.

_a letter, duh_

**mikey mouse <3**

_for??_

_I owed you a real one ;)_

**Author's Note:**

> someone correct me bc the only spanish i know is the leftover stuff ingrained in tagalog loooooool
> 
> kudos & comments greatly appreciated!! maybe if enough ppl yell ill post the letter
> 
> love yall, stay safe, keep marchin, and God bless you mdudes


End file.
